The Razor's Edge

Some may call it vice,
but it's very nice,
a world away from here,
a chance to escape
the grim finality
of each passing day apart
from the path I should have taken.

But when it's gone,
this very nice vice,
there is only emptiness,
a dull sense of loneliness
as life's taint once again
stains my lips
from the cup of self-hatred,
and I am thrust back into
the awareness of lack,
the inability to learn to conjure forth
my world away from here.

Oh, to have her here
and not have to depend
on the flights of fantasy
to relieve the loneliness
of wretched existence.

Hell on one side,
damnation on the other
as I walk the razor's edge of madness,
and either way I lose.